


Lost in the Woods

by LelianaVance (orphan_account)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Clarke and Finn, Clarke's weakness, Clarke-centric, Cowgirl Position, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Finn's desires, Girl on guy, Guy on Girl, Heterosexuality, M/F, Minor Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Mount Weather, Mountain-Men, Nipple Play, Outdoor Sex, Painful Sex, Painplay, Panting, Porn, Porn With Plot, Reapers, Rough Oral Sex, Roughness, Screaming, Sexual Content, Sky-People, Straddling, Straight Sex, Teasing, The 100 - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, bodyplay, grounders, jasper - Freeform, lincoln - Freeform, pain and pleasure, sex sex sex, the 100 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LelianaVance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Finn, alone with their feelings and desires, alone in the woods. </p><p>Set roughly towards the beginning of Season 2 with an Alternate Canon.</p><p>Explicit!</p><p>Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Clarke and Finn in all their glory.

The Reapers had passed them by and, for now, it seemed that they were alone. Clarke could not remember ever being in this part of the forest, it was somehow alien in its effulgence and every now and then something glowed in a blue-white luminescence. She tried reaching out to grab one but whatever it was danced away from clutching fingers. Even here amongst the dead, beauty still had a way of sprouting. She looked around her, spotting Octavia hidden behind a tree-trunk to the west and waved her over. 

“That was close. Did you recognize any of them?” Clarke asked as Octavia reached her side. 

“No,” She replied with a sigh. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t one of them. We’ve got to keep going. Lincoln…he is out there. I’ve got to believe that.”

Clarke nodded, took her hand. “And we will. Just not right away, we need light and weapons.” Octavia stiffened, wrenching her hand away. Her eyes became slits and, garbed as she was, Clarke could see the monumental shift that had occurred in her since Day One. Octavia had not only fallen in love with a Grounder, she was slowly becoming one. It was true they had lost their weapons during the chase but Clarke had seen her brandishing that machete before and it was frightening how much she had grown; frightening how much they had all grown.

“I won’t lose him again.” Octavia stated, stepping around Clarke. “I’ll go alone if I have to.”

“That’s not what I meant. I will help you save him, like I will help our people up at Mount Weather but we just need to go about it the right way.” 

“This is the only way.” And with that, Octavia ran after the Reapers, quickly becoming lost in the foliage. 

Clarke could have screamed. Ever since they had been here she had done all she could to keep them together and alive; did the past mistakes not factor in their rash decisions? She wanted so much to walk right up to Mount Weather and pound away at its foundations, wanted to free Jasper, Monty and everyone else but feasibility prevented that. But could she really say anything to Octavia truly? It would be hypocrisy on a grand scale; she had acted upon impulse when she escaped the clutches of President Wallace, disregarded the others who would not see what was really going on there.

She ran after her. But it was too late and no matter how far she ran and scanned the dim horizon she could not spot Octavia anywhere. She was haggard, in pain from the fall she took before hiding from the onrushing Reapers, and all alone deep in Grounder territory. Noises, of all variety, issued out from every little patch of blackness. Trees creaked.

“Stay where you are!” Someone shouted from behind her, “Turn around slowly.”

It was Finn. 

“Clarke!” He rushed over to embrace her. “I thought you were dead.” He stated pulling back to get a good look at her. She was exhausted but her face creased at his arrival.

“Where have you been? Is Bellamy…” 

Finn flicked back his curtain of hair. “He’s alive. What are you doing out here?”

She told him about their escape and Octavia’s disappearance and without pause he joined in her search to seek her out. They ran and ran and not even Finn’s tracking techniques were of much use in aiding their progress. After an hour of arduous sprinting, Clarke stopped dead, bowled over. “It’s no use, she could be anywhere. We’ve lost her. We’ll have to wait until dawn, see if we can spot some sort of landmark we know.”

He did not like it either but agreed, they were getting nowhere fast like this. Clarke, he noted, was running on an empty tank, had been at this all day and night. Finn handed her his automatic rifle and started to look around. He circled round their position, scanning every little bit of their surroundings. 

“What are you looking for?” She asked after a couple of minutes of wondering.

“Here,” Finn called her over to a hollow bough. “We’ll need shelter just in case.” 

It was snug, dank and damp and left the two of them with little room to move without brushing the other. The moist smell of earth filled their nostrils, the distant caws of birds their ears and the blackness eclipsed their views beyond. “What are you doing?” Clarke asked as Finn leaned over her, fighting to take of his blue jacket. It rustled with every movement. He offered no answer until it was scrunched up into a ball and offered to her. 

“You’ve just got a shirt on. Take it.” His all-encompassing caring, protective nature would always surprise her; he was too good to be true. A gallant amongst criminals. Here they were lost amongst the woods of a planet their ancestors had abandoned, hiding from bloodthirsty Reapers and his first and only thought was for her. 

“What did you do?” She asked as she put on the coat, her face coming close to his as she manoeuvred to do so. “On the Ark, I mean.”

He tore from her gaze as he replied, his words slow and full of emotion. “I helped a friend do what she always wanted to.” 

Clarke searched his face for something extra, something more. “Raven?” She asked at length. “It was Raven, right?”

Finn nodded. Clarke wanted to say something but found herself stalling so the silence stretched out for longer than both of them would have liked; there was only their breathing. He had wanted another opportunity like this for so long but now that it had finally come Raven, Reapers, Grounders and even Octavia sat between them; insurmountable obstacles to a desire that seemed to strangle him from within. He could smell her when the wind went by, smell the dried blood, sweat and that special something unique to her; that intoxicating scent that had never left him. He closed his eyes when he next spoke, did not want to see her expression or falter as her eyes caught his. “I love you.”

Her regulated breathing stopped, he heard the sharp intake and the slow silence as the seconds passed before she finally exhaled slowly. He did not open his eyes still, and would not, until she made some sort of response. Seconds stretched out to minutes and still Clarke made no reply; his heart had all but fluttered to defeated exhaustion when he felt her hand upon his.

“Raven?” She asked again, her breath brushing against his nose and lips. A question.

“She knows.” He replied, eyes still firmly shut. Her lips were on his in a flash and only then did he finally open his eyes to lose himself in hers. Clarke pressed a hand onto his chest pushing him lower to the floor of leaves that layered the bough of the tree. Confined as it was, she still managed to position herself on top of him as their kiss lengthened and became breathy and heavy. 

Finn felt the pressure in his slacks well before her hand slipped down to grab his erect penis, her grip firm and purposeful. His body tensed at her touch, relaxed at the rhythmic process she then began. In turn he sought out her he breasts, one hand barely enough to cover just one; tenderly he squeezed and his breathing rocketed. The other hand reached around to rest upon her rounded, plush cheek. At his touch, she crushed herself further upon him, increased the speed of which she pulled at his cock. 

And then she was off of him and his mouth was left agape, left wanting more and his eyes looked hurt, questioning. She smiled and fought to take off the jacket he had only just moments before given her. “It’s gotten warmer.” She remarked as she, not only relived herself on the jacket, but of the shirt beneath; her plump breasts hung loose, brassieres being a commodity hard to find off of the Ark. Steam shot out of his mouth as the bare beauty of her took a hold of him, short raspy breaths that hinted at the raging tempest rippling beneath his skin. Finn had never wanted something so much. Their last time had been spontaneous and brilliant but this, this- this was just right. Clarke did not stop then, shimmied her legs and fought against the confinement to lose her dark slacks. Without further encouragement, Finn tore at his own clothes not caring about the steam billowing from their mouths or the sudden chill that frosted a number of the leaves outside; there was only her, him and them.

The next time she kissed him, they were both bare to the bone; wearing the same nothingness that they were born with. Flesh rubbed against flesh, hands seeking, finding and rewarding. Clarke gasped as a well-manipulated finger ran the length of her body to deposit inside her clit, teasing tenderly before entering. She gasped into his mouth as he sank deeper and deeper, moaned aloud as if they weren’t hiding for their lives, weren’t being hunted. She returned in kind, her hand running up and down his member as it hardened and hardened as if it were about to explode. She pulled back from his lips, kissed at the crook of his neck, his chest, his thigh before swallowing him whole; her lips circled and tickled, her head pulled back and forth, back and forth. His eyes found the brown-black of the roof of the bough, became unfocused. He grabbed at her head, lost his hands in her goldilocks, her Princess hair. The feel of it beneath his fingers furthered his excitement and he began to thrust his hips forward and back, plunging his prick deeper and deeper into her mouth. She held there, refusing to take a much needed breath, her eyes looking upwards trying to find his. They locked and he pulled her upwards, kissed her hard and deep; then he wriggled downwards until his head was at her chest and he teased at her right nipple with his tongue, sucked and bit until it hardened and then moved onto the next one, his hand never leaving the first. Clarke arched her back, the cold surface of the bough tingling her heightened flesh. He moved on.

She was wet by the time he dropped lower and peeled her apart to allow his tongue entrance; she tasted sweet, rosy and of castles and kings. “Princess,” He whispered, his breath rippling at her exposed clit and her body became taut like a great length of rope all but ready to fray. Stunted cries of pleasure rippled outwards into the cold, stiff air. Clarke moaned for it, moaned for him to do it, but he held off; he wanted to begin as well but it had to be right, had to be perfect. He shuffled back upwards, licking her from lower chest to neck as he did. She was vibrating with want, with need. He held it back from her, teetered it on the edge of a precipice. He put his nose in her hair took a long large breath, blew it out in her face. The still bleeding cuts that lined her face he then licked as if wiping away the pain, she breathed heavily into his eyes, her own locked onto the earthy ceiling. She was rippling with anticipation, agitated for it to begin but he still held her at bay; batted away the hand that tried to insert him into her. Wandering hands grabbed at breasts, squeezed and played until moving on to her cheeks that were well-cushioned and malleable. He then pulled her down, not connecting them together, but pressing their bodies close as he continued to crush her cheeks together. Finn had never been so hard.

Clarke had had enough, grabbed at his hands, and with one pinned them behind his head, the other grabbed his large prick and forcefully pushed it inside her; they both gasped, the noise becoming one great cry of ecstasy. She was straddling him now, her body slowly bouncing up and down; the flesh of her back grating against the boughs roof, skin rubbing raw and bloody. The pleasure outweighed the pain. Her movements quickened, their cries thrice as high as the taut pressure that had been bottled up slowly began to release. Finn’s hands broke free from her grip, grabbed at her waist, strong and painful. She increased the speed, her mouth a claxon for desire. She screamed and screamed, placed hands firmly on his chest, holding, holding, holding him there. She did not want him to move, any little deviation would take him from this spot his prick now found; the spot that kept her bellowing at the night. He was so hard and it tore at her like a knife cutting up margarine. She was mere putty beneath such an instrument. He scraped his own skin at the confinement as his desires sought him to curl up towards her, wrap his arms around her perfect skin. Her large breasts caused friction between their chests, he bit at her neck with each movement. On and on they went and the pain of the blood that ran down her chest was nothing compared to the euphoria blossoming between them. They melded into one another like one being; two sides of the same person finally acknowledging the other. It was not only cries that conjoined but also flesh and blood, hair and cum. 

As the crescendo built and built, he slammed her against the earthy roof, raged inside of her; her movements mere ripples compared to this tidal wave. Short voluminous outbursts broke free from her lips as he dug deeper and deeper into her very fibre. Her breasts were in his face as he finally burst, the results of their union firing like a space-faring rocket into her; he exhaled deeply, biting at her breasts as they slumped in conclusion. Clarke was still riding the high though, her part in the play still gushing all around him. Every bite saw her soar, break and explode. She could feel him soften but she kept on pounding at him, kept juddering forth, still needed a little more. She fell onto him their bodies becoming parallel, finally took her chunk of him as she bit at his neck. Her bite was deep and saw a gasp of pain escape his lips in tandem with her release. 

They fell onto one another, exhausted and utterly transcendent; galaxies and frontiers bloomed in their eyes, potential Sky-People sought out existence within her. 

They tangled themselves in one another, blood, cum and sweat cradling them.

“I love you too.” Clarke said as the first rays of dawn shone down into the bough.


End file.
